


Please Don’t Jump (It’s Christmas)

by mourntheantagonist



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Christmas, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Songfic, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:48:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28273380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mourntheantagonist/pseuds/mourntheantagonist
Summary: It’s just another Christmas alone. Or are they?
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 4
Kudos: 75





	Please Don’t Jump (It’s Christmas)

_ “Another year’s over, the snow starts to fall.  _

_ Just like you would if you ended it all.” _

It’s Christmas time in Hawkins. The Hargrove’s first in the new town. The new home. Billy wasn’t exactly prepared for just how different this year would be. Christmas morning is just him, his father, and Susan. Max lucking out and fucking off to spend the holidays with her Dad in California. While Billy is stuck alone in the house that doesn’t feel like a home. With a Dad that doesn’t feel like a parent. Feels more like a guard. It’s a prison. Six inch deep snow blockade surrounding the house requiring chained up tires if you wanted to go anywhere. Sun blocked by gray clouds. Breath visible against the cold air. It wasn’t California. It wasn’t his home. It was an icy Hell.

Susan tried her best to maintain the usual festivities, but she was clearly upset by not spending the day with her daughter. Believing her ex-husband to be out there corrupting her daughter. Teaching her masculinity and independence. She thinks that’s wrong. It’s bullshit. Billy hopes Max never comes back from California. At least one of them would make it out. 

It’s a quiet and boring fucking day to say the least. Past Christmases were spent hopping from house to house. Their blended family resulting in many visitations to random families that you’d only see twice a year around the holidays. Billy only ever liked going to Susan’s brother's house. His son who was just a year older than him actually proving to be pretty fucking cool. Evenings spent out on the back patio smoking a joint, much to each of their respective father’s disappointment. 

But that didn’t happen this year. Only being in the shithole for two months they didn’t know anybody. No family nearby. Left to their own devices and Susan’s shitty cooking. It was lonely. The dinner table is quiet. Sounds of cutlery clinking against the nice plates that were reserved for special occasions. His father sitting across from him, waiting patiently for Billy to do  _ something  _ so he could get his fists dirty.

It was lonely.

_ “But tonight’s not the night. _

_ If only you’d answer my calls.” _

Steve was alone. Completely and utterly alone. His house is empty and bare of decoration. The snow outside his house and the music on the radio being the only indication that it was Christmas at all. 

He got a letter in the mail. A store-bought Christmas card that looked to have come from the same stack they send to all their colleagues. No additional message. Just signed  _ ‘Mom and Dad’ _ with two hundred dollars inside. 

He felt like just a name on a checklist. Not like he mattered. But maybe he should just be grateful they even remembered. They didn’t even call. The only person to wish Steve a merry Christmas this year was the guy behind the counter at the gas station. He must be having a lonely Christmas too. 

Steve holed up in his room, working his way through a case of cheap beer trying to make himself feel warm inside despite the shivering outside temperatures. Numbing the pain and forgetting the fact that his parents won’t answer the phone. He eats a two day old turkey sandwich and calls it his Christmas dinner. No point in making a whole turkey for just himself to eat alone. Even if he knew how to make a turkey. 

Last year he spent Christmas with the Wheelers. Years prior spent with Tommy H. and his family. This was the first Christmas Steve spent truly and utterly alone. He didn’t have Tommy or Nancy anymore. He didn’t really have anyone but Dustin, who was off in Chicago for the holidays. 

Nancy had Jonathan. Tommy had Carol. Steve had nobody. But who’s surprised? 

Nobody would care if he disappeared. Swallowed up by the deep snow. 

He was just a name on a checklist. 

An afterthought. 

Forgotten.

He calls his parents one last time. A glimmer of hope that they’ll pick up. 

But all he gets is ringing.

_ “Please pick up now.” _

They got in a fight. If you could even call it that. More so Neil didn’t appreciate Billy’s nonexistent attitude and made it known with an open handed slap to his cheek. The skin breaking upon impact. Neil told him to get out and not come back until morning. His instructions were to ‘find another ungrateful queer to take you in’.

He left without hesitation. Getting into his car underdressed for the weather. Cranking the heat as high as it would go to end the teeth chattering. He just drove. Bumpy along snowy paths. Slower than his preferred speed. He just drove. Nowhere to go. 

He turns down an unfamiliar road. It’s dark and there looks to be no sign of life near. Just trees upon trees covered in snow. Maybe he’ll get lost out there. Maybe the car will shut off. He’s heard freezing to death is peaceful.

But the car powers through over rough and tractionless terrain until it stumbles upon headlights in the distance. There’s a clearing up ahead where the car is parked. There’s a figure sitting on the hood. He doesn’t recognize them until he’s parked beside them.

“Harrington?”

_ “Oh no, another Christmas alone. _

_ I would talk you down, _

_ if you would answer your phone.” _

“Not thinking of jumping are you?” Billy asks, it’s only supposed to be a joke.

But Steve doesn’t answer, which is concerning. He’s not answering the question and he’s at the quarry by himself at ten pm. Billy counts three beer cans scattered in the snow below. Steve is crying and staring at the frozen over water that is just a few steps away. 

“You know they say it’ll only break bones if you jump in the water from here. You think it’ll work better when it’s frozen over?” He says it so bluntly. Like he expects Billy to cheer him on as he lets himself walk over the edge. 

“Shut the fuck up Harrington.”

Steve gives him a determined look before he downs the rest of his beer and tosses the empty can over his shoulder. He doesn’t move his eyes from where they’re staring into Billy’s soul. Tear-stained with frozen lashes. He’s been out here for a while. He doesn’t remove eye contact as he takes a step forward, no longer resting on the hood of his car. 

He looks away as he takes the second step. Back towards the cliff in front of him. Just a mere four feet separating him and the drop off. 

“This isn’t fucking funny Harrington.”

He takes another step. This stride longer than the first two.

_ “Please,” _

Billy grabs him hard by the shoulder before he can take another step forward. 

“Let go of me.” He says it calmly. But he still struggles against Billy’s hold on him. But Billy’s grip is strong on him. His feet are planted deep in the snow. He’s not going anywhere. And neither is Steve.

_ “Don’t,” _

“Let me go!” He cries this time. He’s pleading with Billy in between sobs. “Let me go, let me go, let me go!” He’s sobbing. Hot tears dripping down and melting the snow beneath him. Fighting as hard as he can against Billy’s grip. 

Billy pulls him towards him and away from the cliffs edge. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, just allowing basic instinct to take over.

He pulls Steve close. Arms wrapped tightly around him leaving him immobile. Steve is warm against him. In all the chaos Billy hadn’t noticed how cold he had gotten. Steve sobs into his jacket. A combination of snot and tears soaking the denim. 

Steve is slamming a free fist into Billy’s chest as hard as he can. Whispering demands to free him. To just leave him alone. Billy squeezes tighter.

After about a minute of struggling against him Steve collapses to the ground bringing Billy down with him, knees buried in the snow. 

Billy doesn’t recognize the weight of the situation until that point. He just stopped Steve Harrington from killing himself. He forcefully dragged him away from the literal edge. 

“Let’s get you home.”

_ “Jump.” _

Steve is silent the whole ride to his house. He failed at most things, why did he think this would have been any different? To make matters worse it’s fucking Billy Hargrove who manhandled him off the ledge. He definitely didn’t care about Steve. Probably just wanted to be the person to do the deed. Steve would probably let him at this point. 

Billy holds him up as they walk in through the front doors of his house. Steve must be borderline hypothermic. His finger tips are still blue and absent of all feeling. 

Billy guides him to his room and Steve just lets him do what he wants to him. No more energy to fight back. His last attempt proved unsuccessful. 

Billy sits him down on the bed. Neither of them have said a word yet. Billy is shaking as he rummages through Steve’s drawers, unsure if it’s due to him still being freezing or the nerves and adrenaline from what just happened.  _ What the fuck just happened? _

He picks out a pair of pajama pants and a tshirt and tosses them to Steve. Wordless instruction to change. Steve however, makes no attempt to move. 

“You going to make me dress you?” Billy asks. The first words he’s said to Steve since the breakdown at the quarry.

Steve still doesn’t move. Just stares intently at the floor. Physically and mentally numb. 

Billy sighs as he moves toward Steve and begins by pulling his jacket off of him. Steve is cold to the touch. His arms are limp as he removes them from each sleeve. He pulls Steve’s sweater over his head. It crunched as it has been wet and frozen from the snow. 

Steve starts to shiver as the article is removed from him and he is left bare chested. Billy grabs the blanket from the foot of the bed and tosses it over his shoulders. 

Steve moves for the first time to grip the blanket and wrap it around himself completely. Billy gets onto his knees and unbuttons Steve’s jeans. Both boys try to ignore the awkward tension in the room as Billy’s hands graze too closely to his dick. He lowers the zipper with careful hands and pulls his jeans down his legs by the waist band. Pulling off his shoes without unlacing them before pulling the jeans over his ankles. 

Quickly he puts the picked out clothing on Steve. His eyes are still fixated on the pattern of the wooden floor below him. Memorizing each marking in each plank. Avoiding Billy’s gaze as best he can. 

He has to be in some kind of dream. Or a nightmare. Because why else would Billy Hargrove be helping him out. So tenderly undressing him and acting so caring. So human. It’s not normal behavior.

Steve is right. It’s not. Billy could see himself just a couple months ago seeing Steve standing on that edge and just driving away. Leaving him be and not giving a shit about his death being on his conscience. 

But tonight? It was different. The drive over he had those same thoughts in his head. It would be so much easier if he just died out there. Easier for him and everybody else. 

But then he sees it. Sees that same pain inside of him eating at someone else that they’ve too reached that conclusion. And it freaks him out. 

Because Billy doesn’t want to die. The thought is nice, but it’s also terrifying. He just needs someone to talk him down from that cliff. So does Steve.

Once the clothes are on Steve lays down on the bed and buries his face into the pillow. Billy just stands there, unsure whether it’s okay just to leave him like that. 

“Stay.” It’s muffled under the pillow, but he definitely just asked Billy to stay. “Please.” This time he looks up at Billy with teary eyes. No use in shame now. He moves over, opening up a space on the bed for Billy.

And Billy doesn’t have anywhere to go. And he’s freezing and he’s exhausted and he doesn’t want to find that Steve died because he left.

So he crawls into the bed and lays down beside Steve, who clutches his jacket and pulls him in close to him and starts to sob again. Billy doesn’t know what to do so he just rubs his hands up and down Steve’s back until he eventually cries himself to sleep. Billy doesn’t fall asleep. Too focused on keeping this broken boy safe like it’s his responsibility. And he hates that. That soft feeling he’s letting creep through. The buried feelings rising to the surface he desperately wants to push back down. 

When Steve wakes up in the morning, Billy is gone. 

There’s a sticky note on the nightstand. 

_ ‘Merry Christmas Steve. Don’t kill yourself.’ _

_ “Another year’s over, you’re spent on the floor. _

_ You burn all the pictures you hang from your door.” _

Billy’s only been out of the hospital for a month once Christmas finally rolls around. Living at home has proven to be a worse Hell than the upside down. His father is constantly on his case about being lazy by laying around all day. Constantly threatening to kick him out on the streets. And that was hardly the worst of it.

Billy being gravely injured did not halt Neil’s abuse. It only aggravated it more. Plus the fear of leaving marks became less worrisome as Billy was not only bed ridden and wouldn’t be seeing anyone, but he was already so scarred up from the Mindflayer that nobody would even bat an eye anyway. His body was free real estate.

He stopped caring about whether or not Max was aware of everything. Billy was no longer a child. Nobody would care even if she told. Neil didn’t bother being quiet, sometimes didn’t bother taking it into another room. Disciplining Billy in his own unique way right before Max’s eyes. 

Max would yell at first. Tell him to stop. To stop hurting Billy. But it just made things worse. Eventually she stopped. Stopped yelling at Neil and started yelling at Billy. Telling him he has to get out. That he has to fight back. It was a ridiculous idea. 

“Don’t be stupid, Max.” Is all he’d say before locking her out of his room. 

Christmas evening is when it all hits the fan. 

_ “You’ve got family and friends, _

_ But you don’t really talk anymore.” _

Steve isn’t alone this Christmas. Not necessarily. The Henderson’s invited him over for a Christmas brunch before they headed off to Chicago for the rest of the day. It was nice. She even sent him home with a casserole for him to heat up for dinner. It was probably one of the best Christmases he’s had in a long while, which is really depressing when you think about it hard enough.

Steve can’t stop thinking about last Christmas all day. How he was too close to that cliff and Billy Hargrove had been the one to pull him away. Had been the one to dress and undress him in his number state. Had been the one to lay next to him in his bed while he sobbed into his shirt. Until he fell asleep. 

And then they never spoke of it. It got to a point that Steve half convinced himself it was a dream. But it wasn’t. Because a dream couldn’t have conjured that note on his nightstand. The note he ashamedly taped to his mirror as a reminder. A reminder that someone out there cared if he lived or died. Even if that someone was Billy fucking Hargrove. 

He never figured out why exactly Billy was put at the quarry that night. He vaguely remembers a cut on his cheek, but not much else. Figures he must have gotten into a fight, it’s Billy after all. 

He’s sitting at his dining room table eating up the microwaved casserole and thinking about how Billy is doing this Christmas. The guy nearly died and Max had mentioned one time or another that their home life wasn’t exactly spectacular. Not the place for a speedy recovery. 

He’s not expecting his phone to ring this year. His parents never called anyway. That’s why the sound causes him to jump and drop his fork onto the plate below. 

He’s not expecting to hear Max’s voice on the other end of the line. 

“Steve. It’s Billy. He- he left, and he’s hurt, a-and it’s cold out and he doesn’t have his car… he’ll die out there.”

Steve shushes Max into the phone. He can hear her sniffles over the receiver. 

“It’s okay. Relax. I’ll go find him okay? I promise.”

“Don’t bring him home. Take him to yours. Promise me.”

“I promise Max.”

Steve hangs up the phone and drives straight for the quarry.

_ “Just like last year.” _

Steve is there before Billy. Which, albeit, makes sense considering Billy is traveling by foot. But Steve is waiting just a little longer than he’d hoped and starts to get concerned that Billy has died somewhere out in the snow. 

The traveling figure in the distance shouldn’t calm his nerves as much as it does. Because he knows exactly why Billy came here. When Billy gets closer to him and he can see him better he gets nervous again.

Billy is covered in fresh bruises and cuts. Bruises and cuts that had to have occurred in the safety of his own home. He remembers that the Hargrove home is not a safe space.

_ “Oh no, another Christmas alone. _

_ I would talk you down, _

_ if you would answer your phone.” _

“What are you doing here pretty boy?”

“I should be asking you the same thing.” 

Steve digs his heel into the snow, contemplating.

“Max called my house.”

“How’d you know I’d come here?” Billy asks, curious.

“Wishful thinking.”

Billy steps closer to where Steve is standing. “I’m not going to have to pull you from the ledge again am I?” His voice is deep and slightly pained.

Steve shakes his head. 

“Good. Don’t want to be a part of a double suicide. They’ll start to think you’re a fag like me.”

Steve doesn’t know which revelation should shock him more. That Billy is queer or that he’s planning on jumping into the quarry. Steve steps closer to Billy, putting himself in between him and the ledge. This could quickly turn into a murder-suicide of he’s not careful. 

“Don’t do that.” Is all Steve says. 

“Just leave me alone Harrington. Just making snow angels.”

Steve steps even closer. 

“Why should I? You didn’t have the same courtesy for me.”

“That was different.” Billy almost whispers. 

“How so?” Steve inches closer, hoping Billy will take a step back. He doesn’t. The two are nearly chest to chest.

“People actually care if you live or die.”

“Max cares. She called me  _ crying. _ And fuck you. I care too. You fucking saved my life. You expect me to just let you end yours?”

“You hit me with a car.”

“Shut the fuck up Hargrove.”

Billy pushes him away. Hard enough that he steps back, but not hard enough that he goes stumbling over the edge.

“I should have fucking died.”

_ “Please,” _

“Billy stop!” Steve grabs onto Billy like he’d done for him last time. But Billy is so much stronger.

“Billy I promise it’s going to be okay, just don’t do this.” He’s trying to maintain his cool but Billy’s showing no signs of slowing. 

_ “Don’t you dare,” _

Steve tackles him to the ground. Showing no remorse for any pain he might’ve caused him because the alternative is worse. Billy’s body is buried in the snow and he’s sobbing beneath the weight of Steve on top of him. 

Steve wipes at his tears with his thumb.

“I’m taking you home.”

“No. Please.”

“I’m taking you to _my_ _home_.”

_ “Jump.” _

Billy is sitting on the couch in Steve’s house wrapped up in the blanket and sipping on hot cocoa. Trying to figure out how he ended up here. Everything that happened at the quarry and before becoming one huge blur brought on by copious amounts of alcohol. 

They’re watching a fucking Christmas movie side by side on the couch like nothing even happened. Like they’re friends. Which they’re definitely not. 

“Was it your Dad?” Steve asks him when the movie goes to commercial. He’s not afraid of Billy anymore to ask the questions he has. 

Billy sees no point in denying it now. He nods his head and takes another big sip of cocoa.

He’s not expecting Steve to take his hand. To rub circles into his palm. Something inside Billy melts at the constant. The warmth receding from his hand into the pit of his stomach. 

“And what you said back there, about being… was that true?”

Billy nods again. 

“Yeah. I’m a fucking faggot.”

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t let go of his hand like Billy expects him to. “About your Dad. Not the gay thing. That parts okay.”

“I didn’t ask for your approval.”

“I know. But sometimes it’s nice to have anyway.”

Steve adjusts his hold of Billy’s hand and interlocks their fingers. 

“Merry Christmas Billy. Don’t kill yourself.”

_ “Don’t Jump.” _

**Author's Note:**

> Hello beautiful person reading this. I know things can feel rough this time of year and I want you to know that you are so incredibly loved. The hardships will pass, even if they feel like they won’t right now. Just keep on breathing because you are so much stronger than you believe you are. 
> 
> Love, mandi
> 
> Tumblr; mourntheantagonist


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